No Bad Dreams
by Natsumi Wakabe
Summary: Estel was never afraid during day. It was only at night, asleep in his bed, that terror would come. Lucky for him, he remembers something his mother taught him that Lord Elrond learns.


Disclaimer: not mine.

A/N: So…I'm beat. Nanowrimo _killed_ me. So, in order to get back into the swing of things I took a break. Now…_we're back!_ For those of you who are eagerly awaiting the next in the Toothless saga, don't worry, we're working on it.  
>Anyways, we decided to jump on the bandwagon and do an <em>Estel has a nightmare<em> fic. Oh, and as for the thing Estel does with his fingers, it's what my mom did for me when I was growing up, just FYI. Enjoy!

"MAMA!"

The screams would always start the same.

"SAES!"

He would always cry out, his voice ringing clear as he relived a horror that was too much for him, for such an innocent babe.

"PAPA!"

He would often come after a thunderstorm, his little legs bringing him to the one place that he knew to be safe.

"ADA!"

The screams that would force elven eyes to quickly lose their glaze, as he would quickly sit up and turn to the door, where he would soon appear. And no sooner had he risen from the bed would he come in, bursting through the door in a blur as he flew across the floor and into his waiting arms. Headlong, he'd rush into his arms, tears streaming down his face, eyes wide with fear, pupils dilated in sheer terror and sobbing uncontrollably. It paned him to see his little on in so much pain, to hear each and every cry come from his little mouth as he gave voice to the fear and pain and memories that had overwhelmed his little head in the land of dreams at night.

And there was nothing he could do.

Oh, he could comfort him, hold him in his arms, run his fingers though his soft curly locks, and whisper soothing words to him, but it wouldn't be enough.

It would never be enough.

It could never be enough.

Because the only way that he would ever be able to stop those tears, to stop these cries for a mother that he would never see again as she raced with the Rangers to protect him; for a father that had died before his very own deep grey eyes protecting him, was to be able to undo the horrors that had befell them. To bring back a man that had once held this little boy in his arms with a smile on his face, their laughter ringing out together as he loved his precious little boy, his son, his little Aragorn. To stop the arrow that had shot out in the night, destroy the orcs before they could attack, to rewrite history, to take away all that was evil in toe world, to stop it. Just stop it all.

But he couldn't.

And that, perhaps, was one of the worst things.

So now, as he lay down on his bed, his eyes wide open, staring unseeingly at the ceiling, he waited. Waited for his little one to come, for he would surely come again tonight, with how fiercely the storm would be, it would not be long before little Estel came running.

And all he could do was wait.

Elrond wasn't sure how long he lay there on his bed, but too soon and too late for his liking, he heard the sound that he'd been waiting in dread for finally sound.

"NO!"

This time, Elrond didn't bother waiting. This time, he would not wait in his bed for a little lost boy that needed comfort. This time, he would be there.

Ignoring everything, he sprang out of his bed and rushed down the halls the lighting illuminating his way as he journeyed to the door that help a little precious child that already carried such a heavy burden. As he fairly burst through the door, the lightning and thunder harkening his entrance, his eyes fell onto the one in the bed. He was tangled up in his sheets, his head whipping back and forth, a cold sweat beginning to form a thin layer upon his face. His arms were clawing at the air, at the blankets, grasping and batting at an unseen enemy, as if he could somehow overcome the fierce foe within his mind that was so much more than the little boy that it tortured. His legs were randomly kicking out as he tossed and turned, trying to escape, but only succeeding in further entangling him. And when he turned his little face toward Elrond, he could see that tears had started to fall.

"ADA!"

That scream quickly tore him from his revere as he crossed the distance in the blink of an eye, and knelt by his son's side.

"Estel, Estel, ion nin," he gently called to him, his hands sweeping away tears and sweat, as if they could also sweep away the nightmare with a mere brush of his hands. He continued to speak softly to him, whispering soothing words in his native tongue, knowing that the smooth and gentle words would do better to calm him than the common tongue that he would have grown up with in the wilderness. Gently he continued on, working his best to soothe the little brow that was lined with fear and pain that should not have been haunting him. Even through the storm, he whispered his words, never ceasing in his actions of calming the little one in bed.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, Estel finally awoke, and like all other nights, he screamed for the one that always guarded him from the darkness of the world.

"ADA!"

This time, he was there to stop it. This time, he was there to stop him from running to his room in panic, and possibly hurting himself. Now, now he could sooth his little boy.

Gently, he grasped his little son, preventing him from falling down in his desperate run for his Ada, and brought him to his lap.

"Sh," he softly hushed as Estel panicked slightly, still caught up in his night terror. "Sh, I am here, tithen pen. Ada is here."

Big blue-grey eyes looked up, wide with fear, tears still coursing down as he finally saw who was with him. For a moment, it was silent, and then, with a force that surprised the lord of Imladris, Estel threw himself into his foster father's chest, sobbing again with renewed strength and clinging to the fabric of his robe as he buried himself in the safety and comfort of his Ada's embrace. Lord Elrond let him, and indeed even cuddled him closer; pulling him in as he gently rocked him back and forth. He continued to murmur little reassurances, letting him take comfort in the warm and loving embrace, while he himself battled the same battle he did every time that he held the little boy in his arms.

_It's all your fault! How could you let such horror befall this child? You, with your gift of foresight, your precious ring Vilya, and when his father was your own friend! How could you! _The voice always came when Estel was like this, vulnerable and needy, unable to stop his heart wrenching sobs or waterfalls of tears that bespoke of the anguish and loss that he had already faced so young in life. And all he could do was silently apologize for his failures.

He must have gone quiet for a little bit, because the next thing that he was aware of, he felt a small, tiny, precious little hand suddenly on his cheek, touching something wet. Tears, Elrond realized. I've been crying. He opened his eyes and looked at Estel, who was gazing up at him with wide eyes filled with love and sorrow. He opened his mouth to say something, but Estel beat him to it.

"Ada okay?" he asked, his little voice holding a slight quiver to it, the last sign of the nightmare besides his still tear filled eyes and little red cheeks. Elrond wanted too say yes, that he was fine, that he was all right, that everything was okay and not to worry Estel, Ada is fine, but he couldn't. He couldn't say it, couldn't make himself lie to him, to tell him that everything was okay, that everything was all right. Because at that moment, when he held the future of men in his arms, crying and sad and hurting in a way that he couldn't heal-

"Ada no cry," Estel said softly as he patted his cheeks, making the immortal blink his eyes in surprise. Then, little Estel reached up his little fingers reaching for his forehead, as he frowned in concentration at his task. Confused, he let the little hand reach its goal and do something.

"No bad dweam," he said, as if he'd heard it spoken before as his pudgy little index finger slide down the middle of his forehead and then go across.

"No bad dweam." It went back to the top of his head as he said it again and slid back down.

"No bad dweam." This time it slide across again as he ended his little ritual. Elrond could only stare at his little one, somewhat lost and yet profoundly touched by what had just happened. For a moment neither spoke, one trying to understand the strength of one so young to be able to try and comfort another in the midst of their fear, and the other waiting for the magic of his little actions to work their magic.

"Hannon le, tithen pen," Elrond said after a moment, and hugged him close, running his fingers once more through the unruly dark hair. "Tell me, where did you learn this?"

"Mama did it for me when I got bad dweams," Estel said as he happily snuggled into his Ada's embrace. "She said that it would chase away all the bad dweams and give me happy dweams."

"Is that so?" Elrond smiled, looking down on the precious child cuddled into his chest. Affectionately, he kissed the top of his head. "Your nana was a very wise woman."

There was no reply to that other than a content sigh and a smile that he could feel through his robe. Nonplussed by the lack of response, Elrond simply shifted the child's weight as he crawled into the bed with his little bundle of sleeping joy, and settled in. Absently, he noted that the storm had stopped raging, leaving only a light drizzle of rain to come down as they waited for the coming dawn.

Elrond smiled and settled down, knowing that tomorrow would be just fine.


End file.
